


Sunday Mornings

by kitkat0723



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Buck takes care of Eddie, M/M, Mornings off, Not Beta Read, Soft Boys, Soft evan buckley, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkat0723/pseuds/kitkat0723
Summary: It’s not every day Eddie lets Buck take care of him like this, showering the older man in attention, so Buck takes advantage of it when he can.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 15
Kudos: 160





	Sunday Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a weekend in the life of the Diaz-Buckley household to go along with a headcanon I'd sent to Cameron but then it turned into this.... so yeah anyway. Enjoy.

Trails of dappled yellow sunlight filter through the slit in the blackout curtains and float across Eddie’s tan skin, making it glow. Buck has no doubt it would sparkle if it could. He watches the light move across the expanse of Eddie’s back, making shadows and brightening new places for Buck’s eyes to explore. Shifting ever so lightly, he brings one hand up and starts to chase the sun’s golden rays on a shade more beautiful than Buck’s ever seen before with his fingertips. There’s not a name for the hours he spends just cataloging every facet and shade of what makes up Eddie. He trails his hands along plans and angles, beautifully smooth skin. They’re in no rush today. There’s no calls to answer, not even Christopher’s. At least until later. Buck has all the time in the world to explore the body he’s never stopped admiring, yearning for. He takes his index finger, runs it over one strong shoulder blade. Making odd shapes, content.    
Long fingers brush over scars long healed on the flesh, but ever so prevalent in the mind. A fall through two stories here, where his turnout coat got snagged. A high rise that was only slightly less terrifying than a tsunami on the way to an airbag and getting caught on brick in a free fall. Bullet wounds, not a part of their shared story, but a part of Eddie’s, just like his hair. Each blemish on near-perfect skin another ghost or skeleton to box away, only to unpack at the worst of times. Buck takes a deep breath, trails fingers down Eddie’s spine. Nearly perfect in its curve, even if it does give him trouble now and again.    
The bed shifts slightly, Eddie waking. A quiet puff of breath and Buck sits and watching the love of his life come to semi-awareness. Full, dark, lashes flutter against dreams and reality, giving way to glided amber irises, clear in the gaze.    
“Good morning,” Buck whispers the words, knows they’ll be heard. He leans over, hand still on Eddie’s shoulder, pressing his lips on the only pair he wants to kiss for the rest of his life.    
“Morning. Time is it?” Eddie tries to move, but Buck’s palm on his body, a small tangible thing keeping him in place.    
“A little after seven. Rest a little more.”    
“Kay.” Eddie’s eyes slide close between one breath and the next, so Buck goes back to what he’s doing.   
He’s more firm with his movements now, down calf muscles pulled tight after long shifts on duty. He stops his motions before he can get to Eddie’s ankles, shifts against the bed. A small groan of indignation coming from his side makes him chuckle. Reaching into the nightstand next to his side of the bed, he moves his hand around, fishing for the orange and clear bottle he knows is in there. Fingers brushing against a curved bottle make him go, “ah-ha!” in triumph. Drawing the bottle out, Buck turns back to Eddie. He knows the other man isn’t sleeping, merely keeping his eyes closed against the day.    
The bed shifts again and Buck feels the heat of Eddie’s sleep worn body against his thigh. Rising to his knees, he sets the bottle near Eddie’s head, straddles his hips. He finally gets both hands on the other man’s body, thumbs making dents as he glides them over a strong back. Eddie goes pliant under him, groaning, making Buck smile. He runs his hands back down his boyfriend's frame, before grabbing the bottle. Buck sends the bottle spinning between moving palms, getting the massage oil warmed up before opening the cap and pouring some onto his lover's back.    
Sunday mornings are always some of Buck’s favorite because he gets to take care of Eddie. Show him how much he’s appreciated, cared for, loved. He presses all he’s feeling into each glide of worn palms against smooth skin. Neither of them speaks, they don’t have to. He slowly moves off Eddie’s hips, sitting on the bed near his legs. Buck moves both of them into his lap, traces the strong muscles up and up, right to the edge of Eddie’s boxer briefs then down again. There’s nothing but Eddie and the slow movement of skin on skin to think about. The outside world doesn’t exist in the moment of Buck taking care of the love of his life.    
Eddie relaxes more and more with each press of a thumb in a spot of trouble. At one point Buck is pretty sure Eddie starts to snore, but that’s okay. When every inch of the back of Eddie has been massaged to Buck’s liking, he slowly gets up from the bed, moves into the adjoining bathroom. Stripping out of his sleep pants and boxers, he steps over to the shower, setting the water. Stepping in, he lets hot water move over his shoulders. He doesn’t want to be long, so he washes up quickly, stepping out to towel dry off. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he moves back into the bedroom, only to have those Amber eyes staring right back at him.    
“Come here.” Buck’s never been able to deny Eddie anything so he walks over, water droplets still slighting against clean skin. He crawls into bed, his head resting against Eddie’s thigh. Strong sure fingers move through his hair, tugging at the curls. “Thank you.” Is all that Eddie says.    
Buck leans up and kisses him, no rush in the movement, no heat behind it, even though there could be if either of them wanted there to be. Pulling away, Buck kisses his cheek before moving off the bed to get dressed. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, just a pair of jeans, leaving the button unsnapped.    
“Coffee?” he looks over at Eddie who’s sitting in bed, watching him.    
“Yeah.”    
Buck grins and leaves the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself. It’s not every day Eddie lets Buck take care of him like this, showering the older man in attention, so Buck takes advantage of it when he can. As he steps into the kitchen, his eyes land on the table and the bright punch of orange and pink against the white. Friday after work Eddie had walked in, arms full of flowers. Sometimes it’s just one or two, other times it’s a vase. Eddie’s way of saying I love you on Fridays was flowers and dinner neither had to cook. Sundays, when they could manage it, Buck took care of Eddie. Letting his boyfriend know, he didn’t always have to shoulder the world. It was okay to let the pressure go.    
Buck stepped towards the coffee maker, hitting the on button. He’d filled it the night before after they’d come back from a movie since Christopher was spending the night with his cousins. Crossing the room to the fridge, Buck opened it and examined the contents. Pulling out the fresh eggs they’d picked up at the farmers market yesterday along with the cheese and bacon, he moved around the kitchen, making breakfast.    
He was just setting the bacon aside to drain when two arms wrapped around his waist, and a pair of soft lips ghosted over his shoulder. “I was wondering why you didn’t bring back coffee.”    
Buck laughed and finished what he was doing, turning the stove off before turning around, wrapping his arms around Eddie. “Wanted to make sure you got food with your coffee.” Buck shrugged like it was no big deal.    
“I love when we have Sundays off,” Eddie says instead of commenting on Buck taking care of him, even as he steals a piece of bacon before Buck can smack his hand away.    
He sighs and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “It’s done anyway. Sit down.” Buck gestures to the table, picking up one of the two plates he’d already sat on the counter.    
Once breakfast was arranged on the two plates to his liking he sat them on the table then grabbed the coffee pot and two mugs, sugar, and creamer, then finally sat down.    
Eddie’s leg curls around his own, even as the older man reaches out to snag one of Buck’s hands. Warm rich eyes stare at him for a long period of time, before Eddie smiles at him, picking up his fork.    
“We should do this for the rest of our lives, don’t you think?”    
Buck was thankful he hadn’t taken a drink of coffee yet. His eyes go wide as he stares at Eddie who’s eating like he hadn’t just said what he did.    
“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”    
Eddie puts the fork down and winds his fingers through Buck’s again.    
“I am.” Eddie nods, a small smile playing on his lips.    
Without hesitation, the answer he knows would always be said if Eddie ever asked fell from his lips. “Yes. Absolutely.”    
“Okay.” Eddie acts as if it’s not a big deal, but Buck can see the light sheen of tears in the corner of his eyes and the smile playing on his lips.    
Buck laughs and leans over the table, to kiss Eddie before he can take his next bite of food.    
He knows not every weekend will be spent like this, but as long as he has Eddie, he knows whatever their future weekends look like, they’ll be the best thing he’s ever experienced. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me or send me prompts about the two disasters we know and love on my Tumblr @kitkat0723


End file.
